


sift and scour

by windingwoods



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Multi, Softball AU, The Future Past Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9147403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windingwoods/pseuds/windingwoods
Summary: just a place where to share some misc drabbles1. cynsev, post tfp timeline2. soltama, softball au3. sumia/sully/miriel, modern au





	1. cynsev tfp timeline

**Author's Note:**

> i don't usually do this but i found out i love writing aimless fe drabbles and i needed a place where to dump it all sooo there ya go!

“What language is this?” Severa asks one day.

She’s resting her hands on one of her mother’s old tomes, tracing the lines word by word with the tip of her index finger.

Cynthia plops down on the grass next to her with a sigh. “That,” she starts, “is the language of the ones we don’t know how to remember anymore.”

“So you’re saying it’s dead?”

“Hm, dunno ‘bout that. We still use it, we’ve just— it’s. It’s a thing from the past.”

Severa looks up from the tome, and now her fingers are ghosting over the daisies scattered all around them. They both know she won’t pluck any of them.

“So it’s a thing from _before_ ,” she says, like she’s stating the obvious out loud (which she kind of is, but neither of them feels like articulating on the subject any further), and Cynthia nods.

“Still wanna give it a shot?”

“At magic?” Severa sounds dubious; they all sound dubious these days, unsure of what to do now that the Risen keep disappearing one by one.

Cynthia bumps their shoulders together. “I mean, you could be a falcon knight too, you know.”

That makes Severa flinch, squared up and tense like she always is in most of the memories of their years together.

“I’ll leave the staves to Brady, I think. I’m not so good at the whole kindness… thing.”

She makes a vague hand gesture while saying that, voice trailing off. It makes something inside of Cynthia spin and twirl with restlessness.

“Then I better start teaching you how to read that dusty tome, miss former mercenary.”

The smile Severa gives her kind of reminds Cynthia of Minerva’s oh so lovely (Gerome’s words, not hers) sneer when she announces, “great, I can’t wait to fight Laurent fair and square.”

“Huh, now _that’_ s probably not a good idea—”

 


	2. soltama softball au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my guys i have so many ideas for this au

“It’s _hot_ ,” Mitama drawls for the umpteenth time since they’ve got there. She knows complaining won’t change things, she’s a rational person under several layers of sleep and poetry, but that’s never stopped her from being a nuisance before and it sure won’t stop her now.

Next to her Soleil laughs softly to herself, a hand adjusting the peak of her cap on her forehead. “‘s summer, that’s just how it is!”

As usual, utterly unhelpful and unsympathetic.

“Ah, gotta get ready for my turn at bat,” Soleil says before Mitama can voice her dissatisfaction (or comment on how hot it is again, maybe in verse this time). She gets up from the bench with a stifled moan, arches her back as she stretches her arms up her head.

“Wish me luck, darling?”

Mitama makes a face. “First of all, don’t call me that, ever. Also, in case you were too busy making eyes at the rival catcher to notice—”

That gets an undignified squeak out of Soleil, but Mitama’s learnt how to ignore all of that. “ _In case_ you didn’t notice, our opponents were quite literally quaking in their boots just from watching Caeldori pitch a few in the bullpen earlier.”

“Aw, that means no good luck kiss for me?”

“They’re _rookies_ ,” Mitama says, feeling just a little bad. Then, because Soleil’s making eyes at her now and she’s long stopped pretending to be immune, “you get your kiss if you hit a homerun. For me.”

That earns her a crooked grin as Soleil walks up to her designed position; the bases are loaded and she’s their fourth batter.

Needless to say, the ball flies off at the first pitch.

 


	3. sumia/sully/miriel, modern au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for nin, who asked, and for femslah february

They’ve thrown all their pillows, some blankets and their only beanbag on the floor (took some time to get Miriel to agree to that) in the middle of the room and it looks slightly less bare, Sumia muses.

There’s still white walls and unpacked boxes piling up in the corners but, she figures as she glances over at the crib by her side, it feels just fine as it is.

“We’re going to need another one when Cynthia’s born,” she says, which gets matching perplexed stares from both Sully and Miriel.

“Well, duh,” Sully helpfully supplies, while Miriel sighs. “Do try to keep on task, please.” 

Then, because she’s Miriel, “do you need to rest? Is she kicking?”

Sumia just laughs, a quiet sound in their brand new home, and turns her attention back to the glossy pages of the furniture catalogue on her lap. 

“I’m fine, just— thinking out loud.”

“Man,” Sully says, jabs a finger at a bright red, way too big couch. “Kjelle _never_ stopped kicking. Also, that one’s good.”

“Truly your genes, then. And that one is clearly too big for our living room.”

Sumia blinks, ready to tune out whatever dispute about measures and space and the ultimate relativity of it all she knows is about to spark, but Sully just huffs.

“I say we let Sumia pick one,” she declares, hand now warm on Sumia’s waist, and Miriel smiles.

“As long as there’s no floral motif.”

This time they all laugh, louder and then choked in their throats when they remember Kjelle’s sleeping right next to them and none of them’s got a good night of rest in months.

“Cynthia better be nicer than my little goblin,” Sully whispers, and Sumia squirms as red hair tickles her cheek.

“She will,” she says, for once sure of something like she hasn’t been in a long time. “She will be just lovely.”

 


End file.
